MY EX-HUSBAND OBSESSION 🌻

CHAPTER 08

RYZER KAISER HUXLEY

·····FLASHBACK·····

I stood in front of a small concrete house—solid, but still modest.
Seriously? Dito talaga nakatira si Beatrix? Tsk.

I was about to turn around and leave when a little kid suddenly tripped right in front of me. I wasn’t planning to help, but before I knew it, I was already reaching out and helping her up.

“Thank you, Mr. Kano!” Kano? Did she just call me that?

“H-huh?” I asked, confused.

“Engyish naman po ‘yung ‘thank you’ ko ah.” Tsk. Bulol pa.

I smirked. “I can understand Tagalog… but sorry, bulol? Hindi eh,” I teased, and the kid gave me a death stare.

His eyes caught my attention. The shape, the natural brown color—they were striking. Familiar, even. There’s someone I know who has those same eyes. . . but I couldn’t place it.

“Ayis na po ako ah. Hanap na ako ni Inang Coya!” she said quickly before running off toward a fishball stand.

I brushed off the encounter and drove away from the quiet neighborhood. On the way out, I spotted Edward’s car parked along the road.

Tsk. So the girl he’s chasing lives here, huh?

As I continued on my way to the office, my phone rang.

MAMITA is calling...

I answered quickly. I didn’t want another sermon from her.

“Mamita?” I greeted.

“Come to the house. Right now.” She hung up.

I sighed and turned the wheel, heading toward her house instead. I was hoping to grab something to eat—Kylie’s cooking was basically raw and still bleeding. I would've even settled for coffee. But I already knew she’d mess it up again. Gorgeous girl, but when it comes to the kitchen? Hopeless.
Good thing… never mind.

When I got to Mamita’s mansion, the guards immediately opened the gate so I could park inside. The place still looked the same—grand, elegant, untouched by time.

As I entered the house, Mamita stepped out from the kitchen, just taking off her apron.

Wait—did Mamita cook?

“No beso? Mano? Or at least a hello?” she said as she walked toward me.

“Sorry po,” I said quickly, taking her hand and placing it on my forehead.

“Even good manners, nakakalimutan mo na,” she replied, fanning herself dramatically.

“Come on. Let’s eat. You’ll join me,” she added and led the way to the dining area.

When I got there, I was greeted by the sight of food I hadn’t seen—or tasted—in years.
Paksiw na bituka ng baboy, her and Lolo’s favorite. Lumpia, my childhood favorite. And so much more.

Mamita took her usual seat at the head of the table, and I sat to her right.

I waited, expecting the maids to come and serve us, but they just stood by the wall.

“What are you waiting for?” Mamita asked, one eyebrow raised. “For them to serve you like royalty?”

I ended up eating more than I planned—not just because I missed Mamita’s cooking, but because I was actually starving.

After we ate, I followed Mamita to the library, which also doubled as her home office. When I entered, I saw her seated comfortably on the long sofa, holding something in her hands.

She looked up and motioned to the space beside her. I quietly walked over and sat down next to her.

“Look at this,” she said softly, showing me a photo.
A picture of me as a child—innocent, smiling, playing with Lego blocks.

She flipped to another page and held it up. This time, it was a photo of me when I was around seven, wearing a basketball jersey with the number 14. I was also wearing a cap—Lolo’s gift to me, I remembered. It was a hot day back then, and we were watching Papa play basketball.

“You looked so handsome there,” Mamita said with a warm smile.

I cleared my throat, needing to shift the moment a bit.

“Mamita, why did you ask me to come here today?” I asked politely.

She gently closed the album and looked at me seriously.

“Take those photo albums,” she said, pointing at the coffee table in front of us, “and look at who you used to be... Maybe—just maybe—my real grandson will come back.”
She stressed the word apo like she was reminding me of something deeper.

I looked down at the table. Five thick photo albums were neatly stacked, each labeled with my age range:

BABY – 1 YEAR OLD

2 – 3 YEARS OLD

4 – 5 YEARS OLD

6 – 7 YEARS OLD

8 – 10 YEARS OLD

“Remember your childhood, apo,” she whispered, then pulled me into a soft embrace.

“Mamita… why are you doing this?” I asked, a bit unsettled.

But she only gave me a small, mysterious smile.

“One day, you’ll understand. Just trust me,” she said, standing up. “Now, go. You still have work waiting in your office.”

BUONG BIYAHE KO, punong-puno ang utak ko ng mga sinabi ni Mamita. Bakit niya gusto akong balikan ang pagkabata ko? Is this another one of her plans involving me and Kylie? May pakay na naman ba siya?

I was on my way to the office when my phone rang—Kylie.

"Why?" I answered flatly.

“Oh my God, babe!” sigaw niya sa kabilang linya, sabay may narinig akong mga nahulog na gamit.

Napapreno ako at agad kong isinide ang sasakyan. Binalik ko ang cellphone sa tenga ko.

"WHAT HAPPENED?!" tanong ko, pero puro sigaw lang ang marinig ko—literal na masakit sa tenga.

“B-babe, a-ano... y-yung kusina kasi... n-nasusunog... OH MY—!”

Nilayo ko ang cellphone sa tenga ko sa sobrang lakas ng tili niya. Parang ako pa 'yung sinisisi sa sunog.

Dahil doon, imbes sa opisina ang punta ko, ay agad akong dumiretso pauwi habang tumatawag sa fire department. Pagdating ko sa bahay, sinalubong ako ng makapal na itim na usok galing sa kusina. Naroon na ang mga bumbero, inaapula ang apoy.

“BABE!” Tumakbo si Kylie papunta sa akin, umiiyak habang yakap ang sarili.

"What the hell happened?” tanong ko, trying to stay calm kahit gusto ko na talaga siyang sigawan sa inis.

“I just wanted to try cooking... para madala ko sa office mo. Kaso napalakas ata yung fire,” sabi niya habang naka-pout pa.

Seriously? Imbes na ma-cute-tan ako sa kanya, lalo lang akong naiinis. Buwisit. Wala na nga kaming kusina, naka-pout pa siya.

“B-babe. . . y-yung Chanel bag ko. . . nasunog. . .”
She sniffled. “Mahal pa naman yun. . .”

So she’s more worried about her bag than her life?

I walked away, didn’t even respond. Diretso ako sa kotse, slammed the door shut, and drove off.

Bahala na kung saan ako dalhin ng daan.

Pero habang nagmamaneho ako, alam ko kung saan ako papunta. Parang autopilot ang katawan ko.

Pabalik ako sa lumang bahay namin ni Beatrix.